466
has
not existing bothered God?
not a
whit
it's
highly over rated
if you
can be everywhere
all
knowing
encompass
all
then why
would you need to merely be?
it's not
for lack of evidence
He's not
faith
keeps afloat
and
wonders are everywhere manifest
a puff
of breeze for lazy proof
the
Miracle Whip
but
let's not call him names
and how
is the attention sought?
play
hard to get
the
All's reverse psychology
make
mine meek
lamb
go fish
and make
a wish
no, make
that three
isn't it
a rooster's crow
keeps
the game alive?
then all
this work's anonymous
the envy
of a pantheon
of
buried deities
is it
Aten?
no it's
Ra restored
how many
suns can there be?
it's a
bull
it's a
bird
it's
some kid with a magnifying glass
raw
feast of
the lion
king
be
bearded with the the best of tribe
so wive
me penis pop
oh loved
beyond the heart's good reasons
Retributive
and Allied
but
never all tools down
oh
omnipote smiter
the
smote are offer up
eponymous
– they're yours
let's
call you
for
goodness sakes
what a
prayer crowd clogs
heaven's
above
here's
how truth set free at first
then set
upon
thunder
claps
and
that's applause
a baton
tap
and all
attend
God's
blood
in the
high chair
just
demanding
all you
get is mush
big bub
commanding
all
however
all
todge too
no age
too tender
or
there's mere absence
an
unspoken
no girl
tot rules a world
in every
ache some deity
put the
others all to death
unclean
until the evening
perhaps
you've not noticed
but it's
personal
you
think of your father often
and how
can he be gone?
the
journey to yes
and the
journey to know
each
equally unleaded now
a
stretch and presidential
great
God is yawning
there's
no amount of huff and puff
no
dreaming that will make you be
Easter
Sunday Addendum
you can
be three and really be none
not
being at all must be half the fun
ReplyDeleteCome round by my side and I'll sing you a song
I'll sing it so softly, it'll do no one wrong
On Birmingham Sunday the blood ran like wine
And the choirs kept singing of freedom
That cold autumn morning no eyes saw the sun
And Addie Mae Collins, her number was one
At an old Baptist church there was no need to run
And the choirs kept singing of freedom
The clouds they were grey and the autumn wind blew
And Denise McNair brought the number to two
The falcon of death was a creature they knew
And the choirs kept singing of freedom
The church it was crowded, but no one could see
That Cynthia Wesley's dark number was three
Her prayers and her feelings would shame you and me
And the choirs kept singing of freedom
Young Carol Robertson entered the door
And the number her killers had given was four
She asked for a blessing but asked for no more
And the choirs kept singing of freedom
On Birmingham Sunday a noise shook the ground
And people all over the earth turned around
For no one recalled a more cowardly sound
And the choirs kept singing of freedom
The men in the forest they once asked of me
How many black berries grew in the Blue Sea
I asked them right back with a tear in my eye
How many dark ships in the forest?
The Sunday has come and the Sunday has gone
And I can't do much more than to sing you a song
I'll sing it so softly, it'll do no one wrong
And the choirs keep singing of freedom
Joan Baez - Birmingham Sunday Lyrics
But no. They're not bothered, They're partying.
DeleteThanks for buying this record.
DeleteThank you gentlemen this was an Easter concert too muchly enjoy :)
ReplyDelete